


Prisoner of Hate

by chains_archivist



Category: The X-Files
Genre: Boys in Chains, M/M, Prison, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-03
Updated: 2015-04-03
Packaged: 2018-03-21 02:49:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,553
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3674634
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chains_archivist/pseuds/chains_archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>by T.W.o.Oz </p><p>A nasty, brutish, and short vignette re: prison rape. <br/>Warning: I had absolutely no emotional involvement whatsoever with the characters while I was writing this, and therefore felt I could do whatever I pleased with them. You've been warned.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Prisoner of Hate

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Dusk, the archivist: this work was originally archived at [Boys in Chains](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Boys_in_Chains), which opened in 2000 as a multifandom archive for both fiction and art, but then sadly went offline in 2005. To bring the archive back, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in December 2014. Open Doors [posted an announcement](http://archiveofourown.org/admin_posts/1832) and e-mailed all creators about the move, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this author, please [contact the Open Doors committee](http://transformativeworks.org/contact/open%20doors).
> 
> Warning: I had absolutely no emotional involvement whatsoever with the characters while I was writing this, and therefore felt I could do whatever I pleased with them. You've been warned.
> 
> As for forwarding this elsewhere, be my guest, anywhere on the Net you feel is suitable, provided you include the "T.W.o.Oz" byline. Enjoy.   
> And Happy Holidays. Heh.

_Don't ever touch me again._

Mulder had heard the words, had seen the challenge in Krycek's eyes. The threat stood clear. Yet he found he couldn't resist the urge--when Krycek returned to the prison cell, cocky, confident, there to taunt Mulder with his freedom--well, it was then that Mulder made his first mistake.

As the heavy door slid shut behind them, Krycek laughed, a harsh, dirty sound. "It pays to speak the language," he said, strutting around the tiny room. "I've got my freedom now. Too bad about you." He shrugged. "Only so much I could do."

"That's gratitude for you." Mulder watched him warily, circling away each time he drew near. "So what are you here for?"

"Oh, I think you know." Krycek paused, tensed, eyes trapping Mulder in their feral glare. "Come here."

Mulder stood his ground. One on one, Krycek had the advantage. They were similar in height and weight, but Krycek had been well-fed and rested, thanks to his Russian friends, and Mulder felt weak from lack of food and sleep. He could fight for a while, but he wouldn't win. "Fuck off," he said.

"Wrong." Krycek stepped closer. "Fuck  _you._ " He moved until Mulder tried to move away, until he had him against the wall, still not touching, but only inches apart. Nowhere for Mulder to hide.

"You hate me," Krycek whispered fiercely. "You think I'm a monster, but you have to keep facing me, because I'm  _useful_ to you. You need me. You'd use anyone you needed to if it got you closer to your 'truth', wouldn't you?" His hot breath brushed Mulder's face. "Who's the monster here, Mulder? Which one of us do you hate the most?"

He hated  _him._ That much was true. "I'm not a goddamned murderer."

"No?" Krycek smiled with a sly, slit-eyed hunger. "What's stopping you, hm? You think I killed your father--well, what if I did? You think I killed Scully's sister--and what if I did that, too? I beat the crap out of that precious boss of yours--the one who seems to know you  _oh so well_ \--"

" _Shut up._ " Mulder flattened himself against the thick cold stones. He wanted to punch the bastard, and he knew that was exactly what Krycek was waiting for.

"Touched a nerve, did I?" Krycek smiled again, and slowly ran his tongue around his lips. "He means a lot to you, does he? Did he ever suck you off? Ever let you fuck him? Or is it always the other way around?"

Mulder felt his fists clench. "Shut  _up_ \--"

"You look like you'd make a great bottom man,  _Fox._ "

That was when Mulder made his mistake.

He tried for a gut punch, but he didn't have enough room to put any force behind it. Krycek easily took what little impact it had, then stepped back to swiftly deliver a right hook to Mulder's jaw. He followed it with a sharp kick to Mulder's groin, sending him to the floor, on his hands and knees, clutching his abdomen.

He wasn't quite down for the count, not just yet. Mulder held in the pain shooting through him, waiting for Krycek to come in closer. When he did, Mulder sprang up with the last of his strength, going for a full body tackle. He slammed Krycek into the opposite wall, drew back for a punch. Krycek ducked, deflecting most of the punch, and Mulder barely scraped the side of his face, the bulk of his hand hitting rough stone instead.

He stepped back, nursing his bleeding knuckles, circling, trying to keep out of Krycek's range. But the prison cell was too small, and Krycek was far too high. He could see the glittering eyes, the sweat stains on the white shirt, and worst of all, the hard edge of Krycek's erection.  _No._ Mulder made one last effort, knowing his only hope was a well-aimed hit. The strength wasn't there, though. He only got one small punch to Krycek's ribs in before Krycek subdued him utterly, with a two-fisted blow between his shoulder blades that sent him downward, spinning, too weak to go on resisting.

He felt strong hands all over him, stripping him, carelessly ripping the clothes from his body. Naked, shivering, pain still lancing through his gut, he closed his eyes, face down against the cool, damp stone, willing his mind to shut out the horror. He heard a zipper being undone, and then Krycek straddled him; he could feel the thick, heavy thighs bearing down on his flesh.

_I'll kill him. I'll fucking kill him._

But he couldn't move. He felt frozen, trapped by the monster above him and immobilized by the demons within.  _I'm not a goddamned murderer._  No? Or was it just, *not yet*? Smooth, firm fingers gripped his buttocks. Mulder whimpered. He felt Krycek shift himself off, felt the hands slide from his buttocks to slip underneath him, to lift him by the hips.

"On your knees, boy," Krycek's sharp voice rasped out. " _Now._ " As one hand kept holding him, the other slapped hard across his buttocks, stinging his flesh. Mulder had no strength left, and why drag the torture out with futile resistance anyway? Gritting his teeth, he raised himself up on his hands and knees, eyes still tightly shut.

"That's good," Krycek whispered. "Now you're  _mine._ " The hands returned to his buttocks, kneading them, spreading them, slapping each in turn. And then one finger slid between the crack, and roughly penetrated him. Mulder made a sound, something between a cry and a moan.

"A little tight in there, isn't it?" Krycek jammed two fingers in, sending a searing burst of pain through Mulder. "What's the matter, boy?" Krycek leaned over his back, heavy breath on his neck. "Didn't your boss warm you up enough for me? Aren't you used to this by now? Or was his dick so damn small you couldn't tell if it was up you or not?"

Mulder bit his lip so hard he tasted blood. "I'm going to kill you," he gasped.

"Oh, yeah. That's right." Krycek laughed a sick, guttural laugh. "Do unto others, Fox, that's right. Use them. Toy with them. Abuse them. Be like  _me._ " He suddenly bit hard into Mulder's shoulder, making him yelp like a dog. " _Yeah._  Make noises for me, boy.  _Fight_ me, boy. You're not a man, you're a fucking whore--gonna let me shove it up your ass just like Skinner does with his little bossy prick--yeah, you  _like_  it, don't you, boy? You  _want_ to be my whore-dog,  _don't_ you?  _Don't you?_ "

" _Fuck you!_ " Somewhere, Mulder found the will to struggle, knowing it was pointless, yet desperate to get Krycek's throat between his hands and squeeze the life from him. He twisted, he tried to heave Krycek off his back, he put every ounce of his waning strength into the effort. But it wasn't enough. Krycek held him firmly, his powerful arms and legs holding him in place. He grabbed Mulder by the hair and yanked his head backwards hard, straining his neck muscles to the breaking point.

"That's better," Krycek said. "Get that sweat going, boy. Makes your skin all sleek and smooth for me. Makes you  _ready_ for me." He let go his grip. "And  _I'm_  ready for  _you._ " Both hands tightened again on Mulder's ass. "But I'll warn you--I'm a big man. A  _very_  big man."

He shoved his cock inside.

Mulder screamed. Krycek punched into him, fast and rough, his bullet-hard shaft filling Mulder so tightly he feared he'd be ripped apart. The rapid, brutal thrusts tore into him over and over, and Mulder gripped the stone floor, his eyes squeezed shut, his mouth gaping open in a silent cry. Pain rode through him in torrents, sweat beaded on his brow and the droplets fell onto his hands, mingling with the blood from his savaged knuckles. He couldn't endure this, yet still Krycek rode him, his powerful thighs pressed against Mulder's, his muscular arms clutching Mulder's waist, his insatiable cock taking all of Mulder, every inch of him, possessing him with its complete penetration. Mulder felt sick and shriveled up inside, and as each new thrust staked Krycek's claim on his body, he mentally shouted,  _Die,Die,_ but whether the command was directed at Krycek or himself, he could not tell.

Just as Mulder thought he could take no more, Krycek stilled, and then Mulder felt his shuddering release, felt the warm liquid spurting into him, forever soiling him.

Mulder shivered as Krycek's cock slid from his body, and a draft of chill air hit his back as Krycek moved away. He collapsed, curling into a fetal ball, as if the impersonation of innocence could magically bring about its return in reality.

He heard Krycek moving, and opened his eyes. Suddenly Krycek was right there, kneeling before him, head bent low to look directly into Mulder's eyes.

"It was good for me, lover boy," Krycek murmured sweetly. "Was it good for you?" He touched Mulder's face, gently caressing his cheek with his fingertips.

Mulder hated him, hated himself, and with an ice-cold loathing sweeping through his whole being, he raised his head just enough to spit in Krycek's face.

And that was his second mistake...

The End? 


End file.
